


Sunrise

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Feelings Realization, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, The Bridge Chapter (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 10:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21408655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Riverside Park, then and now. Two souls drifted apart now return to one another. Still circling each other in uncertainty, Connor realizes the only way to figure out if Hank is attracted to him is to come out and detail his elaborate fantasies.Turns out it is possible to make a seasoned homicide detective blush.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 188





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one-shot while I work on the next chapter of Hank and the Mechanical Man. I love the idea of Connor just blurting out exactly what he thinks - and worldly detective Hank being completely blindsided and embarrassed by it.
> 
> Not much to warn for honestly. There's no actual sex, but the description of what Connor wants and thinks is explicit enough to warrant the rating.

**Sun, Nov 7th, 2038, 6:43am**

**Riverside Park**

Connor had advised Hank to sleep in the car rather than drive home. Connor could have driven the automobile, but Hank was reluctant to leave, despite the cold. He slumbered in the front passenger seat, his thick coat draped over him like a blanket, the heater running. It was an inefficient use of gas, but Connor couldn't bring himself to disobey Hank's command this time. He let the man sleep, pacing the park. He'd never had free time like this to simply watch the world unfold, and he was starting to understand why Hank had come here to contemplate the sentience of deviants. There was something pleasant about watching the world turn, knowing out there, millions of humans and androids were going about their business like usual, oblivious to the fact that a flaw was causing deviants to rise up and kill humans. He thought about the victim from the previous night and the marks on the man's throat where the deviant had squeezed the life out of him. 

Hank had walked around him just a few hours prior, assessing Connor as if he was a threat, and Connor could do little to reassure him. How did he know he wasn't becoming a deviant? If he did, would he wrap his hands around Hank's throat and choke him until Hank stopped breathing? He couldn't bring himself to picture a scenario in which he harmed Hank. His thirium pump squeezed at the thought of letting the precious human come to harm. Perhaps that was the only sign he had that he was still obeying his programming. When it came to the matter of his mission, he was no longer certain that it was his first priority. He'd acted against it on several occasions, mostly in the name of protecting Hank. Last night, though… he'd let those androids at the Eden Club go when Hank was in no immediate danger. He'd already been pushed into the wall and knocked down, posing no further threat to them.

So why had Connor let them go? Hank had asked the same question, and he'd been unable to answer it. He didn't know why he'd done it, only that he'd basked in Hank's supportive reaction. He'd botched a murder case—Hank should have been angry. So why had he seemed almost pleased?

Hank was a confusing man. Every time Connor thought he had him figured out, he acted in a manner contrary to Connor's expectations. For an advanced prototype, he found himself continually perplexed by this stubborn old detective. Hank was a complex mystery, and he wanted nothing more than to solve him like a math puzzle, dedicate his complex computing capabilities to understanding and predicting Lieutenant Hank Anderson's next move. He had an entire folder dedicated to the man, from the way he walked and talked to the smile on his face. He looked through these assets now, watching Hank's almost-smile after Connor had lifted him up off the edge of the roof at Detroit Urban Farms.

Connor stood and stared out at the river, plastic fingers gripping the railing. The twinkling lights of the city faded as dawn approached, orange sunlight struggling to pierce thick, white, snow-filled clouds.

He realized he was smiling. Not a forced reaction, the culmination of a sub-routine created to put humans at ease, but a real, genuine smile, created for himself alone in a moment of enjoyment. Thinking about Hank had created that smile. Playing back the footage again, he found his smile growing wider at Hank's reluctant approval. He cross-referenced it with the footage from the Eden Club.

_"Maybe it's better this way…"_ Hank muttered, his eyes lost in a faraway stare. Connor froze the frame and looked at Hank, studying every crease and line on his face. 

He liked looking at Hank's face. There was something warm and kindly about him, beneath all the bitterness. As if he was searching for someone to peel back the layers of hurt and despair and see the beautiful soul inside.

"Connor!" Hank's voice made Connor spin about on his heel. Hank was trudging through the snow towards him, looking tired and grumpy.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

Hank paused as he noticed Connor. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, seemingly confused as to why Connor was still here.

"Let's get the fuck outta here," Hank said. "Do me a favor and forget anythin' I said last night, yeah?

"As you wish, Lieutenant," Connor replied, and followed Hank back to the car.

**December 7th, 2038, 7:15am**

**Riverside Park**

The first lights of dawn broke the horizon. Connor's footsteps were covered by a thick blanket of snow, which settled in his hair and jacket as he gazed out at the city from the very same park where he'd first contemplated the possibility of his own deviancy. He was free, now, but with freedom came a new kind of terror—choice.

His Hank folder was full to bursting. He'd told himself it was no longer relevant and he should delete it. Despite their hug at the Chicken Feed, they barely saw one another now. Detroit had become a city for deviants, and while Hank still lived here, he spent most of his time in the company of other humans at work, while Connor was a free agent, an unemployed android in a sea of them. There was no reason for him to return to the DPD.

He missed Hank, truth be told, but there was no reason for Hank to want him in his life. He didn't need a substitute son. Connor could no longer be his work colleague and partner. Their tenuous connection had been severed by the android revolution and Connor felt as if he was the only one who wasn't better off for it. He'd lost his anchor and felt like a boat adrift on the waves, desperate to reach port.

Connor didn't turn when he heard the crunch of heavy footfalls in the snow. Probably just a homeless soul passing by, or an early riser out walking their dog. Not Hank. He didn't dare to think it might be Ha—

"Connor?" Hank's voice was unmistakable, and Connor turned to greet it with a beaming smile. Hank held Sumo's leash, which the big dog tugged on. Hank let him off the leash and the dog padded over to a tree to urinate. Hank walked over to where Connor stood and clutched the railing next to him. "Are you all right, kid?"

"I calculated with a 84 percent accuracy rate that you would come here to walk Sumo. Or perhaps to drink. Last night I went to Jimmy's Bar, but you weren't there. I've been waiting here ever since. I wanted to come to your house, but I didn't want to bother you."

"You've been stalking me?" Hank gave him an odd glance, a little taken aback, like Connor had just grown two heads.

"I miss you," Connor blurted out.

"Why would you go and do a thing like that, huh?" Hank shook his head. "The world's your oyster, now. You can do whatever you want to do. You don't have to be stuck with me. That's why I've been givin' you your distance."

"What if I want to be stuck with you?" Connor gazed into Hank's eyes, looking for an answer to his confusion. He didn't know why he liked this human so much, but lately he'd been creating preconstructions of him and Hank that were a lot more than mere hugs. He'd imagined kissing Hank, how warm his human lips might feel. He'd envisioned Hank making love to him in the back of the Oldsmobile, Hank sinking his cock into him long and slow, lavishing his back in kisses. His body tingled with electricity, the impulse to reach out and touch Hank overwhelming in its intensity.

"You don't wanna be around me, Connor. I'm not a good role model for you. Fuck, I almost shot you." Hank sighed, his entire frame seeming to sag with an invisible weight bearing down on his shoulders. "I'm human, subject to all the disgusting impulses humans possess." Hank looked over to where Sumo was sitting, waiting for his master, and Connor realized Hank was about to leave as he took one step away.

He wanted to know what terrible impulses Hank possessed. Needed to know. If Hank walked out of this park, he would never find out. But he couldn't beat around the bush. Hank would deny everything. He had a whole folder of evidence to prove Hank would dodge the question instead of saying what he meant. It was up to Connor to be direct.

"Disgusting impulses like wanting to fuck me in the back of the Oldsmobile, Hank? I've preconstructed the scene 59.4 times, if you must know. The point four was when I was interrupted in a public restroom attempting to 'rub one out'."

Hank stiffened like he'd stared into Medusa's eyes and turned to stone, his eyes and mouth frozen into a look of shock and surprise. His mouth finally moved, flapping like he'd lost the power of speech. Connor forgot to simulate breathing, wondering if he'd gone too far and this was it, the final straw that would push Hank away for good. What if he'd read the man wrong and he did see him like a son? It would be the last time they saw one another, and Connor would think back on this moment with shame and embarrassment.

They were trapped in this stalemate for a further 39.4 seconds before Hank dropped the leash, seized Connor's shoulders and pulled him into a crushing kiss. Connor was happy to oblige, thrusting his tongue past Hank's lips, wrestling for dominance. It was Hank who had to pull away so he could breathe, but it was Connor who longed to drop to his knees and suck the stiff cock grinding against his leg.

They looked at each other like they were seeing one another for the first time. Hank was smiling, a filthy grin that Connor immediately saved for future reference. Connor was smiling too, an ear-to-ear grin that felt ridiculously wide but earnest.

Hank's cheeks were pink and hot to the touch, and Connor realized he'd made this fifty-three year old detective _blush_. That had to be a victory, though it was certainly an unexpected one.

"I guess that we should, uh, get goin' then," Hank said, calling Sumo over to him. "I mean, assuming you wanna come home with me."

"There's no place else I'd rather be," Connor said. "Well, except in the back of the Oldsmobile with you, but I am _not_ sharing that moment with Sumo."

"Fair enough." Hank chuckled, and they walked towards the car, two men silhouetted against the bright winter dawn. Hank slipped his free arm around Connor's shoulder and Connor leaned into him, grateful to be going home with Hank at last.


End file.
